By the next morning the glitches were visible to everyone—tiny distortions in the air, screens flickering, clocks stalling for seconds at a time.
Ethan called an emergency meeting; Noah sat beside him trying to look normal while the conference room lights blinked in Morse code.
> "It's probably the building's power grid," an engineer said.
> "No," Ethan murmured, glancing at Noah. "It started the day he collapsed."
Noah froze.
> "Coincidence," he said quickly. "I just have chaotic energy."
Ethan leaned back, studying him. "You always have an answer. But not the right one."
Noah looked away. "Maybe you don't want the right one."
Back in his office later, Noah's phone buzzed until it shook.
> SYSTEM: "Narrative instability critical. Emotional thread at 89 %. Warning: Main character awareness rising."
Noah whispered, "Main character? Ethan?"
> "Affirmative. He is starting to remember this is fiction."
Noah groaned. "Of course he is. Because the universe hates subtlety."
Ethan appeared at the doorway without knocking.
> "You're hiding something, Wilder."
> "I'm hiding caffeine withdrawal."
> "Don't joke."
He crossed the room, close enough that Noah could see the shadows under his eyes.
> "When you fainted that night, I saw something—code, static. Like the world glitched around you."
Noah's stomach dropped. "You saw that?"
> "What are you?" Ethan asked quietly. "Because I'm starting to think none of this makes sense until you do."
Noah laughed weakly. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
> "Try me."
So Noah did.
He told him about the novel, the system, the way he had woken up in someone else's body meant to be Ethan's rival. About the collapsing story, the deadline, the feelings that were never supposed to exist.
When he finished, Ethan just stared.
> "Say something," Noah whispered.
Ethan stepped forward. "You expect me to believe I'm a character in a book?"
> "Yes. And that the only way to keep you alive is for you to love me back."
A silence thick enough to drown in.
Then Ethan said quietly,
> "You really are insane."
Noah smiled sadly. "Told you."
He moved past him, heading for the door.
> "Forget I said anything. I just… didn't want to lie anymore."
The Crash
Half an hour later the building shuddered. Monitors blinked out, lights flared white, and the floor beneath them rippled like water.
> SYSTEM: "Narrative collapse at 94 %. Imminent erasure."
Noah stumbled as the walls around him peeled away into text. He could see lines of the novel's script unraveling mid-air.
Then strong hands caught him. Ethan.
> "You're not leaving me in this madness alone," Ethan said.
> "You believe me now?"
> "I don't know what I believe," Ethan said, "but I know you're real to me."
The words hit like a pulse through the collapsing world.
> SYSTEM: "Thread at 97 %—stabilizing."
Noah laughed shakily. "That's the most romantic thing you've ever said during an apocalypse."
> "Shut up and stay close."
They ran—through corridors turning to light, through pieces of dialogue dissolving like smoke.
They stopped on the rooftop. The city below was a sea of glitching lights.
Noah turned to him. "Ethan, if this world goes, you'll disappear. Everything will."
Ethan's eyes softened. "Then stop wasting time."
He stepped closer, rain starting to fall through the shimmering air.
> "You said I had to love you for the story to live," Ethan said.
"What if I already do?"
Noah's breath caught. "You—"
> "You drive me mad, you ruin my order, and I can't imagine a day without you interrupting my meetings."
Noah's laugh broke halfway into a sob. "That's the sweetest confession ever."
Ethan cupped his face. "Then let's rewrite the ending."
And he kissed him—finally, desperately—while the world around them rewove itself into light.
System Log: Final Entry
> SYSTEM: "Emotional thread complete.
Narrative stabilized."
"Reconstruction initiated: new genre — romantic comedy."
"Deleting tragic parameters."
"Good luck, idiots."
When Noah opened his eyes again, he was back in Ethan's office. Everything normal. No static, no collapse.
Just Ethan, sitting beside him, holding his hand like he had no intention of letting go.
> "Morning," Ethan said softly. "We didn't die."
> "I knew my plan would work," Noah said.
> "Your plan was chaos."
> "And yet, happy ending achieved."
Ethan laughed. "You're insufferable."
> "You love it."
> "I do."
Outside the window, the city lights glowed steady for the first time in days.
The story had rewritten itself — this time, for keeps.